The Hidden Life of Harry Doe
by hmmga
Summary: Believed dead by the wizarding world, Harry grew up on the streets of Manhattan. By the time Hogwarts catches up with him, he's a skilled thief. How will the wizarding world react with finding him alive? And will Hogwarts be able to cope with a street-rat in its midst… AU. Slytherin!Harry. Rated T for language. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**This is not a sequel, this is not a sequel, I promised myself there would be NO SEQUEL… damn, who am I kidding?**

**Okay, so this is a ****sequel** _**companion piece **_**for my story 'The Secret Life of Epsilon Brown', but you don't have to read that first. For those who **_**have**_ **read it, this basically takes place in the alternate time line where K was written out of history. There probably won't be many Men In Black references in here.**

**Chapter 1**

Mitch was hungry.

That was why he was currently kicking the face of that man who'd tried to fight back when he'd nicked the cheeseburger right out of his hands. The man was twice as tall as Mitch, and at least three times as wide, and he'd made a satisfying slapping sound when he hit the paving slabs.

Mitch was only eight years old, but he was tough.

Eventually he was bored of watching the fat moron bleed, and ran off with his prize. He ate quickly, hidden in the shadows of a tall building. It was a chilly afternoon, and judging by the decorations it was very near Halloween…

He froze as the sky suddenly went dark. A clap of thunder resounded through the city, and a great wind began to blow. Mitch flattened himself against the wall to stop himself from being cast away. He watched in terror as a small child materialised out of nowhere. The storm died down, and a little boy was left bawling in the street. Mitch approached him carefully, and the boy's cries gradually quietened down to gentle sobs. Mitch looked up at the sound of raised voices.

"We're too late, we missed it!"

"Search the street, somebody must have seen something…"

_Cops_, thought Mitch. He scooped up the boy, and retreated back into the shadows. The men ran right past his hiding place. They weren't dressed like policemen, instead they wore plain black suits. _Like government agents…_

"Hey, this guy's out cold!"

They had found the man he'd beaten up. While they were distracted he turned and ran, child in his arms. He weaved through the back roads, the rest of the gang should be back by now.

"Who's there?" growled a voice. Mitch froze.

"It's me, it's Mitch! Now open up and let me in!"

There was a loud clanging noise, and one of the metal bins was moved to the side to reveal a hole in the wall. Mitch scrambled through it, keeping a tight hold on the kid as he single-handedly pulled the bin back into place. He turned to find Joe staring at him.

"That's a kid."

"Yes."

"What the hell did you bring a fucking kid here for? You didn't kidnap him, did you?"

"Nah, I found him. We've got a new gang member."

"Mandy won't like that."

"I'll talk to her. Is she here?"

"She's in the back room."

Through all this, the toddler was sitting quietly, watching them through baleful green eyes. He clung tightly to Mitch as he took him right to the back of the building.

"Mandy," said Mitch. The girl whirled around. She was sixteen, tall and stringy with dirty blonde hair she kept tied back in a pony tail. Mitch backed away instinctively. He had seen their leader in action.

"Mitch, what the hell is that?" she asked, staring.

"It's a kid," he said, looking up at her.

"Don't give me that shit, I can work that out for myself," she snarled. "What's he doing here?"

"I found him," shrugged Mitch. "He was abandoned, I think."

Mandy studied the child, fingering his clothes. She took one of his hands and pulled it towards her, examining his arm, flexing it. The boy squirmed as she did the same to his leg. Eventually she stepped back.

"He doesn't seem the sort to be abandoned. Well fed, good clothes… you twat, you nicked him, didn't you?"

"No!" cried Mitch. "I found him in a dumpster," he lied.

"Well why couldn't you just take him to the police station?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked furiously. "They'll just dump him in an orphanage! Do you remember what they did to _me_?"

Mandy nodded. She did remember the day Mitch joined the gang, and the state they had found him in.

"Does the kid have a name?" she asked. Mitch shrugged.

"I dunno. Do you think he's old enough to talk?"

"How should I know? I'm not his bloody nursemaid!"

"Hey little guy," said Mitch, touching the boy's cheek. "What's you name?"

The kid just stared at him blankly.

"I'm Mitch," he continued, pointing to himself. "That's Mandy, and you are…"

"Hawwy," muttered the boy.

"Harry," said Mandy. "So we've got a Harry Doe here. Well, a name's a name. Where did he get that gash on his head?"

"Dunno," said Mitch, touching it gingerly. "It isn't bleeding."

"Keep an eye on it," ordered Mandy. "We don't want him getting sick. He's your responsibility."

"Yes ma'am."

"Train him. I am making an investment in young Harry Doe. If he grows up to be useful then we'll keep him. If not…" she let the sentence hang.

"Understood," promised Mitch. "I'll teach him. But he's too little…"

"There's time yet," she told him. "Start him off on the little things, then build up. You know the usual tricks. Pickpocketing, running, lying to the cops, self defence… but first we gotta introduce him to the others, and work out where the fuck he's gonna sleep."


	2. Chapter 2

**Btw, I've shifted the dates in this to match my other story. (Lol I'm writing an AU of my AU) it doesn't really matter too much though.**

**Chapter 2**

_Aged 7:_

Mitch stared in astonishment at the wallet clutched in Harry's tiny hands. The black-haired boy grinned at him, stolen glasses dangling off his ears.

"How the fuck did you get _that_?"

The boy's smile widened.

"There was a secret pocket in his jacket," he announced. "But I still got it."

"But… I… how?"

"Were easy," giggled Harry. "Just flew into my hand!"

He laughed again, and Mitch rolled his eyes. He couldn't get a straight answer out of him, but that boy had the nimblest fingers any of them had ever seen. Even Mandy was impressed with him. Mitch smiled as Harry efficiently emptied the wallet of a considerable amount of money, and dumped it in a nearby dustbin, handing the notes over to Mitch.

"Well done," he praised. "Mandy might let us get you some shoes with this."

Harry scowled, looking down at his bare feet.

"Don't like shoes," he said petulantly. "No shoes. Can't I have a shirt?"

He fingered his ragged t-shirt, and Mitch nodded.

"I reckon we can all have new shirts with this lot. Maybe even some jackets."

"That'd be good," he said dreamily. "'S getting cold."

"C'mon kid," said Mitch, putting an arm around Harry's bony shoulders. "Sun's setting. Time to get back."

"D'you think Rosita will make her soup tonight?" asked Harry excitedly.

"Dunno," said Mitch. "There's no need to get so excited, it's only tinned stuff."

"Yeah, but remember when Mandy tried to cook it, but burned it? We still had to eat it coz we had nuffin' else, but it tasted like piss…"

"Everything Mandy cooks tastes like crap."

"Yeah, but 'least most of that's edible…"

They reached their base, an abandoned apartment block, and pushed open the kicked-in door.

"Mandy?" called Mitch. "Rosita?"

"Rosita!" called Harry. "¿Estás aquí?"

A golden skinned, dark haired girl poked her head around the corner, smiling warmly.

"Harry, bebé. ¿Tuviste un buen día?"

"Sí. Tenemos cincuenta dólares fuera un chico…"

Mitch tuned out as the pair babbled away in Spanish. He had no idea how Harry had picked up the language. He had known Rosita since he ran away from the orphanage, and he still couldn't understand a word she was saying. She appeared to be having no more luck in learning English, but Harry had picked up both languages easily. He hung back and watched Harry follow Rosita back into the room they had set up their blankets. The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Mandy trudge in, rubbing her hands together.

"Bloody freezing out there," she remarked. "Just our fucking luck that winter's decided to arrive early."

"It's been cooling down all afternoon. Harry was shivering towards the end, but he was trying to cover it up."

"The kid's tough. He'll be fine."

"Hm. He lifted another wallet today. You know, one of the impossible ones."

"Again? Well… make sure he's rewarded."

"Mandy?"

"What is it?"

"Do you ever think that we did the wrong thing? Maybe we should have just handed him in when we found him…"

"And get packed into homes ourselves?"

"You were sixteen, they wouldn't have given you much trouble."

"They would have just chucked him in an orphanage like they did to you? Why are you even asking this?"

"Well, he's… he's bloody clever, Mandy. He would do well in school. He learns things so quickly…"

"So do most kids."

"He likes to ask questions…"

"I repeat, so do most kids."

"He speaks two languages!"

"Lots of people speak Spanish in New York. He was just… exposed to it when he was little."

"But there's more! Earlier, he were scamming some tourists, and I swear he was speaking fucking French."

"How would _you_ know what French sounds like?"

"He told me they were from France. And it didn't sound like Spanish.

"But where the hell would he learn _French_?"

"Beats me. But…"

"Mitch," interrupted Mandy. "He's already seven. He's used to being free, roaming the streets. How do you think he'd react if you stuck him in a classroom? The poor kid would probably crap himself, and jump out a window to get away."

"But…"

"Mitch," she interrupted again. "How old are you?"

He frowned. "What year is it?"

"1996."

She watched him doing the maths. He had to think about it for a while.

"I'm fourteen. Maybe fifteen… I'm not sure."

"Exactly. You're still a kid, so lighten up. Let me be the adult."

XXX

_Aged 8:_

"Harry!"

The scream tore through the air. Mitch turned to see Jack, a boy about Harry's age reach out to try to catch the black-haired boy…

He missed, and Harry fell. Mitch yelled too, scrambling to the edge of the roof to watch Harry plummet three stories, his heart in his mouth.

He bounced.

For a moment, Mitch couldn't believe his eyes. Harry was bouncing down the pavement, laughing in joy and exhilaration. Eventually he rolled to his feet, and bowed to Mitch and Jack.

"I give you… Harry!" he cried. "Bones of rubber, and soles of steel!"

"You idiot!" yelled Mitch back. "You complete and utter…"

By the end of his speech, both of the younger boys had learned some interesting new words.

XXX

_Aged 9:_

"It's over, kid," said the policeman, tossing his cap onto the table top. "We've rounded up all your little friends. They're being distributed into care homes as we speak. Now I want you to tell me, _where's the money_?"

Harry just stared at him, his eyes narrowed in deadly anger. For a moment the older man was scared, but he quickly scoffed at the notion. This was just a child, after all.

"Come on, we know you had it and we know you hid it. You chose the wrong person to rob, kid. Now your friends are paying the price…"

Harry's temper snapped.

He felt his anger boil beneath his skin, and for a moment all he could feel was power. It radiated from him, and suddenly the policeman was flying backwards, hitting the wall with a thud. He crumpled to the floor, and Harry didn't stop to see if he was alive or dead. The door sprung off its hinges when he approached, and the people milling around in the corridor cried out in shock.

"Hey, stop that kid!"

Harry ran, out of a nearby window onto the street. He didn't stop.

He was on his own now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it's been a while, I've been busy. I actually appear to have a **_**life**_ **this semester. This is a brand new concept for me, and I'm only just getting the hang of it…**

**I haven't done a disclaimer here yet so…**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. (Or Men in Black, but that's not really relevant in this story)**

**Chapter 3**

Morning dawned over New York, and a pair of metal bins rattled as Harry awoke. He scrambled out onto the pavement, stretching and yawning. Two years had passed since he had been left to survive on his own, and he had grown very little in that time. He had managed to procure new clothes regardless, but they were beginning to come out in holes again, and were already grey with dirt.

He rubbed his face, trying to work the sleep out of his eyes. He patted his shorts to check his knife was still securely strapped against his leg, and set off down the street. Most of the city was still asleep, and Harry revelled in the rare quiet. He was used to around-the-clock noise.

As he headed towards his usual 'work-spot' between the twin towers, he passed a yellow parchment envelope lying on the pavement.

XXX

_Mitch handed over the steel blade carefully, watching Harry like a hawk to make sure he didn't cut his hands._

"_Now," he told the small boy carefully. "This is _only _for emergencies. Do you understand?"_

_Harry nodded eagerly. It was autumn, and he was probably about nine years old. _

"_I'll be teaching you how to use this," said Mitch seriously. "But you have to be very careful. You can't just go sticking this into every random wanker you come across. Understood?"_

"_Understood."_

"_Alright. Now, for the meantime, you are not to take this beyond our base."_

"_What? But…"_

"_No. You don't need it yet anyway, you're not old enough to go wandering around on your own. When you're older you may need to protect yourself…"_

Harry jerked awake as something fell on his face. He sat up suddenly. He was still concealed behind the bins, but covering him…

He looked down at his lap. Several letters sat there, and he picked one of them up. There was no stamp on it, and the address was written in green writing. He opened it roughly, tearing open the strange paper to find two more sheets inside, also covered with green writing. He opened all the other envelopes and grinned with excitement.

As he fumbled in his pockets for his stolen lighter, he relished the idea of having a few moment's warmth before he set off to join his Russian friend in picking the pockets of the businessmen.

XXX

Harry gabbled away in German to the unsuspecting tourists, shuffling Igor's pack of cards quickly. He moved his nimble hands quickly in the familiar routine he used to cheat people out of their money. He grinned triumphantly as he revealed the cards, and the couple clapped appreciatively.

_Ignorant fools…_

The man reached into his pocket to pay for another go, only to realise that someone (Igor) had already run off with it. He turned back to see Harry running off into the crowd and let out a roar of anger. Before Harry could get far enough away he was being chased. The German man was a fast runner, and caught him quickly, holding him in place. With a roar from Harry the tourist was thrown off him, and rendered unconscious. An onlooker tried to stop Harry escaping, but a quick knee to the groin and blow to the back of the head left him on the floor next to the tourist.

He darted away into a back alley, headed to the usual meeting point where he and Igor would share their spoils.

XXX

It was the 31st of August, and Minerva McGonagall was checking over the final preparations for the beginning of term tomorrow. Her lesson plans were done, she had finished creating the timetables, and now she was just looking over the list of first years that were expected to arrive.

She scanned down the parchment. This was her first time properly looking over the list, apart from a brief glimpse when she charmed the quill to send out the letters. Now as she read the parchment in detail, one name and address stood out like a sore thumb:

Mr H Potter

Behind the Metal Bins

W 43rd Street

New York

NY

USA

McGonagall rose to her feet in a panic, running in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

"Albus! ALBUS!"

She screamed the password at the gargoyle, and ran up the moving staircase. She burst into Dumbledore's study to find him in discussion with Sirius Black, the new defence teacher.

"Albus!" she gasped again, as the two men looked up at her in astonishment. "There's something you need to see!"

She shoved the list in front of him, and prodded the parchment with her finger. Dumbledore read, and his face paled dramatically. He joined McGonagall on his feet.

"It must be a misprint!" he said. "Harry Potter died ten years ago!"

"But it's right there!" cried McGonagall. "And there's an address too! It might not be the _same_ Harry Potter, but there is a wizard boy living on the streets of New York, who for some reason falls under _our _jurisdiction! Surely that warrants an investigation!"

"It does indeed, Minerva. My apologies, Mr Black, this conversation will have to wait until a later time. I must get in touch with the American Ministry."

Sirius was frozen in place.

"H-Harry?" he whispered. "As in James' son?"

"I doubt it," said Dumbledore gravely. "It's a very common name. It is curious though. If he was born in Britain, why would he be living in America?"

Sirius stared at him.

"Oh yeah, sure, never mind 'why the hell is he living on the _streets_', no that's not the important question."

Dumbledore sighed, and then set off to floo the American minister for magic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Once again it was morning in New York, but today Harry had run into some trouble.

He had woken with the sun, as normal. Headed out to meet Igor, as normal. Picked pockets and pulled off multiple scams, as normal. And then it all went wrong.

He was reshuffling his cards for a Japanese couple, when he noticed two men in suits watching him. One was young, with short dark hair. The other was incredibly old, with a white beard that fell down to his knees. They were attempting to be discreet, but…

He finished the trick quickly, smiling into the tourist's disgruntled faces as he collected his winnings. He scurried away quickly as the two men shook hands. The younger one left, and Harry slipped quickly down a back alleyway, stuffing the cards into his pocket and reaching for his knife. With one hand on the hilt he flattened himself against the wall , peering around the next corner…

"Good morning,"

He jumped, whirling around to face the old man, who had seemingly appeared right behind him.

_Take it easy, Harry,_ he thought to himself. _It's a bit early to kill him._

"Good morning, sir," he said courteously, eyeing the man's pockets. "Can I help you?"

The old guy, it appeared, had not missed the glance.

"I'm looking for a Harry James Potter. I heard he lived somewhere in this area…"

"Well I dunno about a Potter or any James."

"But you know a Harry?"

Harry pretended to think about it for a moment.

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Professor Dumbledore," said the man, holding out a hand. "I've come to offer you a place at my school."

Harry stepped back quickly, his neutral expression vanishing.

"You can't fool me," he snarled. "You've come to drag me to a Home! I won't go! I know what goes on in those places!"

"Harry, you misunderstand me," said Dumbledore calmly, his blue eyes twinkling. "I have come to take you to my school."

"Liar!"

"Come now Harry, be reasonable…"

Dumbledore tried to place his hand on his shoulder, but Harry was faster with a twist of his arm he plunged his knife into the old man's side. Dumbledore cried out in pain, and Harry began to run. But before he could reach the end of the street there was a flash of red light and he was gone.

XXX

"_Harry?" whispered Mitch in the darkness. Harry felt a gentle hand in his hair. "Are you alright?"_

"_I'm fine," he whispered back. "You?"_

"_Yeah, I'm okay."_

"_Where are we?"_

"_I dunno, kid. Can you remember what happened?"_

"_I remember the cops coming… did we get busted?"_

"_I think so."_

"_I don't wanna go to an orphanage, Mitch!"_

"_I think it's too late…"_

XXX

Severus was helping Poppy sort through her batch of potions when there was a flash of fire, and Dumbledore appeared in the hospital wing. He was carrying a smaller figure, who he quickly dropped onto the bed. Dumbledore was covered in blood. Poppy gasped as he crumpled to the floor.

"Albus!"

The two of them hauled the man onto a bed. Poppy began the diagnosis while Severus ran to floo the other heads of houses.

"There's a pretty sizable wound in his side!" she cried, beginning the incantation that would heal him. "We're going to need a blood-replenishing potion!"

She tossed aside the knife that had been stuck in his side. Severus collected the potion, and helped Dumbledore to drink it as McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout arrived. They stared, aghast, at the sight before them.

"What happened?"

"We don't know," said Severus grimly. He moved over to the child. "The boy's unconscious, probably from a stunning spell."

"Should we wake him?"

"Judging by the state of our headmaster, I'd say not. At least, not until we know what happened…"

"He's coming round," announced Poppy. Dumbledore's eyes were fluttering. "Albus? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you," replied Dumbledore. His voice was quieter than usual, but steady. He pushed himself upright. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Only a few minutes," said Poppy softly. "What happened? There was a knife sticking out of your side!"

Dumbledore gestured to the boy, still asleep on the bed.

"Mr Potter happened," said Dumbledore stiffly. "The boy's wild."

"He looks like you scooped him off the street," squeaked Flitwick, placing a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Dumbledore. "The American ministry uncovered files from a muggle orphanage. We found him less than two miles away from it."

"He wasn't in school?"

"On a Saturday?" Dumbledore suddenly had a horrible thought. "What time is it? When will the other students be arriving?"

"3 pm," said Poppy. "There's plenty of time."

Dumbledore nodded, and pushed himself off the bed.

"I'm fine," he said at their concerned looks. "Thanks for patching me up. Now, shall we talk to Mr Potter?"

XXX

"I don't believe you," said Harry defiantly. "Gimme my knife back!"

Professor Dumbledore sighed.

"You will not be getting 'your knife' back, Harry. It should not have been in your possession in the first place…"

"Bugger off granddad!"

Severus sniggered into his hand. Dumbledore was getting seriously frustrated now.

"I am afraid you won't be going anywhere, _Mr _Potter," he snapped, all twinkling gone from his eyes. "Are there any personal belongings you would like me to collect from the orphanage?"

"I wasn't _at_ no orphanage!"

"Don't be ridiculous, the file clearly stated…"

Severus decided to intervene.

"Why don't you leave Mr Potter with me?" he said. "He will need some supplies before the others arrive."

Dumbledore scowled, went to leave the room. Poppy stopped him on the way out, and motioned for the other adults to join her in the corridor.

"I've done the scans," she said. "It… it's him, it's Lily and James' son."

Dumbledore turned white as a sheet. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I still have their records from when they were at Hogwarts, and there's a perfect match."

"But how is he alive? And what was he doing in New York?"

"Those questions can wait," said Severus. "I'm going to talk to him, before he decides to climb out the window or something."

Severus re-entered the hospital wing to see that Harry was indeed casing the windows. He jumped back onto the bed when he saw the Professor, and Severus smiled dryly. Harry glared at him.

"Fuck off."

Severus raised his eyebrows.

"Quite the mouth you have there," he sat on the bed opposite Harry's. "The Headmaster wants to know why you weren't in the orphanage today."

"I don't _belong _to an orphanage!"

"I know that."

"No you don't! You don't know a fucking thing about me!"

"You ran away from an orphanage," said Severus. "Grew up on the streets judging by your clothes, hygiene, and height. Probably picked pockets to survive."

Harry stared down at his feet, but didn't answer.

"You know," said Snape softly. "Adults never believed me either."

"All adults are wankers," snarled Harry. "You can't trust 'em."

"Oh, I have plenty of experience with that," said Severus with a grim smile, shrugging off his robe. He began to unbutton his shirt. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."

He opened his shirt to reveal a long jagged scar across his chest. Harry's mouth dropped open.

"Where'd you get _that_?"

"My father," said Severus. "I was ten."

"The bastard!"

"Exactly. I bet you haven't got one nearly as impressive."

Harry's eyes glimmered with enthusiasm.

"Nah, yours is rubbish," he snorted. He pulled off his own t-shirt. Beneath the grime his torso was littered with scars. Severus nodded.

"Impressive," he said. "I bet you were much tougher than your average street kid."

"You bet," said Harry, holding his head high.

"Harder to injure."

"Of course," he said. "I've got rubber bones, me. Never broken one in my life, and _I _fell _three whole floors_ onto the sidewalk!"

Severus nodded. "Any other child would have died," he said solemnly. "You were protected, by your magic."

"There's no such thing as magic."

Severus raised his eyebrows again, and gave his wand a quick flick. A bowl of water and a flannel floated towards them. With another flick the water was nice and warm. Severus moved to sit next to Harry, encouraged when the boy didn't shrink away from him. He took the flannel, and began rubbing it on Harry's back, steadily removing layers of dirt.

"So," he started cautiously. "What was a boy like you doing on the streets of New York?"

"I'm not answering any of your bloody questions," said Harry defensively. Severus nodded.

"How about, you answer my question, and you can ask me one?"

"I ask first!"

"Very well."

"Where am I?"

"You're in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. It's a large castle in Scotland?"

"Scotland, is that in Manhattan?"

"No, we're not in America anymore. This is Britain."

"Britain…" mused Harry. "I met a British guy once. He punched me in the face after I cheated him out of twenty bucks."

"Right… now my question. Do you have any parents?"

"I don't remember any," said Harry quietly. "Mitch looked after me, but when we were busted, I had to cope on my own. How can magic be real?"

"It just is," said Severus. "But not everybody has the ability to use it. You're a wizard, and here we can teach you to control you magic. What happened to you at the orphanage?"

"Next question."

"Okay… how did you get those scars?"

"Knife fights, mostly. Can… can you tell me a bit more about this place? When can I leave…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Apologies for the late update, I have been neglecting my account lately.**

**I've had some complaints that Harry is using British slang. I'm British myself, and am unfamiliar with American slang.**

**I do not own Harry Potter, or Men in Black.**

**Chapter 5**

_Dumbledore handed Snape a moneybag._

"_You can use this to get his supplies," said Dumbledore. "There is no need to overwhelm him with his own vault just yet. There's a bit extra to get him some proper clothes… I don't know what they did with the kids in that place."_

"_The orphanage is perfectly respectable, of that I am sure," said Snape. "But the fact remains that he was not in it."_

"_Now, my boy, we've had this conversation…"_

Snape cursed Dumbledore again as he forced Harry to hand over the money bag he'd lifted from some unsuspecting wizard.

"Here," he hissed, "There shall be no stealing. Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Harry scowled, tugging irritably at his new clothes. They had been shopping in the strange alley for hours, and the sun was beginning to sink in the sky. He was tired, and still didn't trust these new surroundings. They had bought 'muggle' clothes, strange wizard clothes, a cauldron, potion ingredients, lots of books… and a strange twig.

Snape had called them wands, and Harry must have tried hundreds before the weird guy was satisfied. Admittedly, he had felt fantastic when he finally found his wand. It made him all warm inside. But he wasn't about to admit that to _Snape_.

"Time to head back now," said Snape. "In a few hours it will be time for the opening feast. You can sleep for a bit, if you like."

XXX

_Harry knew he was dreaming, because he'd been here before._

_The street was burning, a metal… _thing _buried in the concrete road. He hid in the shadows, watching as men in black suits swarmed onto the scene. Eventually a black guy stepped forwards, holding up some kind of metal rod, and Harry found himself pushed into the crowd of people._

"_Could I have your attention please!"_

_There was a flash, and everyone around Harry gained a dumbstruck expression. The man told them some cock-and-bull story, before sauntering off. Harry frowned. What was going on?_

"Harry?"

He jumped awake. Snape was standing next to the hospital bed, holding a pile of clothes.

"You need to change," he said. "You've got ten minutes."

Harry pulled on the trousers, shirt and jumper. Snape showed him how to do the knot for his tie. Then before Snape could stop him he kicked the shoes aside, and threw the socks (with remarkable accuracy) into the fire.

"Harry…"

"I told you before," he said stubbornly. "I'm not wearing them!"

Snape shrugged. It wasn't really his problem. It's not like he was his head of house.

_Yet_, said a small voice in the back of his head.

"Well at least put the robe on."

"_Another_ layer? It's too bloody hot as it is."

"Then you must take it with you."

"I can do that."

He was remarkably compliant, for a street kid. Snape had questioned him a little and, by reading between the lines, deduced that someone had taken care of him. At least for a while.

The tiny boy followed him through the corridors to the entrance hall. They stood at the top of the marble staircase, waiting for the older students to file in first. At last the doors to the great hall were closed, and just Professor McGonagall was left. She eyed Harry as they came down the steps, noting the robe slung over one shoulder, and the missing shoes. Harry just stared at her, and Snape gave a discreet shake of his head.

"And how are you now, Mr Potter," said McGonagall. Harry gave no answer, but jumped behind Snape when there was a big, booming knock on the great oak doors.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here."

Harry's eyes widened as a giant man shuffled past them. Snape pushed him towards the large group of children.

"Will you be alright on your own?"

"'Course," scoffed Harry. "I'm not a baby."

The others stared at him as he joined the edge of their group, watching Snape slip into the hall.

Harry didn't bother to listen to McGonagall's speech. He snapped back into action when they were told to form a line, standing at the very back.

The hall was enormous, bigger than any room he'd ever seen before. He looked upwards and gasped. He could only guess magic was at work, as it seemed as if the place simply opened up to the heavens. It was comforting, almost like being back in Manhattan.

Everyone was looking intently at a hat on a stool. He joined them. To his great surprise, it began to sing.

_A singing hat,_ he thought. _I wonder if we have to get a rabbit out of it._

Everyone applauded as the song came to an end. What followed next was a long, _long _list of names.

"Potter, Harry!"

Snape looked at the boy, it was quite obvious he wasn't listening.

"Harry!" he hissed. The boy started, and McGonagall beckoned him forwards, placing the hat on top of his head.

Harry shivered as it covered his eyes.

"_Well well well," _whispered a voice in his ear. "_What have we here?"_

Harry hissed, the thing was in his _mind_! He wrestled with the alien presence.

"_I mean you no harm," _said the hat. "_I am bound to keep your secrets."_

Harry relaxed a little, but sat tensely as he listened to the hat mutter to himself. The words were inaudible.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted to the hall. There was muted clapping as McGonagall pointed to the green and silver table. He eyed the other students distrustfully, sitting as far away as possible. A number of them stared back at him, apparently surprised by his hostility.

He had landed in hell.


	6. Chapter 6

**I am now available as a beta reader!**

**Chapter 6**

"So what did you say your name was?"

Harry looked up at the snooty voice, to a smug, self-important looking blonde boy. He was staring disdainfully down his nose.

"I didn't," retorted Harry, grabbing another chicken leg with his already greasy hands. The blonde boy flinched, holding his cutlery delicately.

"Don't you know how to use a knife and fork?"

"No."

The blunt answer took the blonde boy by surprise, leaving him unsure how to respond.

"Um… would you like me to show you?"

"No."

"Alright…"

They were starting to attract attention now, and Harry glared back at the curious eyes.

"My name's Draco Malfoy."

No answer.

"What's yours?"

Harry turned his icy stare on Draco, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What's it to you?"

There were murmurings now, and one older, ugly-looking boy sneered at him.

"Watch it, little brat."

"Fuck off."

"Are you American?" asked Draco. Harry shrugged.

"More or less."

"Where are your shoes?"

"Up your ass."

Draco sniffed.

"Well you could at least _try_ to be civil."

Harry snorted.

"Are you a pureblood?"

"A what?"

Half of the Slytherins close by turned to stare.

"Were your parents wizards?"

"Well how should I know?" said Harry defensively. "They snuffed it years back. Don't even know their names. What's it matter?"

"It matters, because those who come from muggle stock have inferior blood."

"I see," said Harry, an evil glint coming into his eyes. "What's Dumbledore's blood status?"

"He's a pureblood, I guess," Draco frowned. "Why?"

"Coz his blood were the same red as the muggles in Manhattan," grinned Harry. "And he squealed like a stuck pig."

Nobody spoke to him for the rest of the meal.

XXX

"What were you doing under the bed?"

Harry stared at Nott as he emerged that morning.

"Well where else were I supposed to sleep?"

"You sleep _in_ the bed, not under it!"

"Do I look like I care?"

Harry dressed quickly.

"You'll find your timetable on your bedside table," said Nott. "That'll tell you what books you need."

Harry picked up the sheet of paper, but set it down again just as quickly, shrugging. He left the dormitory without another word to make his way to breakfast.

If the food was like this every day, thought Harry as he spread jam on his toast. He could probably cope with staying here. It wasn't like they could actually force him to do the classwork.

"We've got Transfiguration first," said Draco. "Along with History of Magic and potions."

None of that meant anything to Harry, who elected to just follow the others.

Their first professor for that day was McGonagall, the thin, strict woman who had taken the sorting. She eyed Harry suspiciously as he sat at the back, noting that he didn't even bother to take his book out.

"Welcome to your first lesson at Hogwarts," she said. "You are here to learn the noble art of Transfiguration…"

Harry tuned out as she began a long lecture about classroom safety, and he made a mental note not to bother with this lesson next time around.

"Mr Potter," called McGonagall. "Would you like to read out the next passage for us?"

There was no response.

"Potter!"

Draco nudged him.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"She's talking to you!"

"No she ain't. She's talking to Potter."

There was muffled giggling. McGonagall glared at him.

"Do you know why I am standing here, _Harry_?"

"Cos Dumb-er-dore wouldn't give me my knife back, the wanker."

"Detention!"

"Huh?"

"I said, detention!"

"What's one of them, then?"

She glared at him, exasperated.

"See me after class. Now can you please read the fourth paragraph."

"No."

"Ten points from Slytherin. Miss Parkinson, please continue."

When the others left the room, McGonagall caught Harry's elbow before he could escape.

"Sit down, Mr Potter."

"My name's Harry, not fucking Potter. Can I go now?"

"Actually I think I need to talk to you about your attitude in class."

"Well get on with it."

"Now _that_ is exactly the sort of attitude that is not acceptable within this room."

"Fine, I'll get out this room."

"Young man, you are not walking through that door until I've finished."

"Fine,"

And before she could grab him again he had darted across the room, and slid the window up.

"No!" she called, whipping her wand out, but then the next moment he was gone. She sprinted over to the window to see him plummet down wards, only to roll onto the grass and run off towards the forest.

"Got to speak to Severus," she muttered, transforming into a cat and running swiftly away.

XXX

Harry had been itching to properly explore the grounds of Hogwarts ever since seeing them in from the window of the hospital wing. He had never seen so much _green_ before, it just went on forever. He had thought central park was big, but this…

He stopped at the edge of the forest, and turned to get his first proper view of the school. Snape had called it a castle. He had never seen one of them before. It almost reminded him of the skyscrapers back in Manhattan, only wider.

He wanted to spend some more time on the grass, but he knew the weird teacher lady would be looking for him, so he slipped into the cool shadows of the forest.

XXX

"At least we know he can't leave the school grounds," said McGonagall, staring into the forest that they had tracked Harry to.

"I wouldn't put it past him," said Snape. "I should have realised this would happen, I'll bet he's never been in a classroom before… oh Merlin, I didn't even think to check if he could read and write."

"He might be illiterate?" asked McGonagall, clearly shocked. "Oh no, I thought he was just being stubborn."

Snape ran a hand through his hair, looking more worried than McGonagall had ever seen him.

"Alright, let's get him out this forest," he sighed. "We can ask him some questions later."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Harry surveyed the tree, running his hands over the trunk. With a quick grin he was scampering up it like a squirrel (if he had known what a squirrel was), and settling on the lower branches. But he wasn't finished, and stealthily he leapt higher and higher, until…

He gasped as he broke through the top and saw the sky.

For years the sky had been unimportant, a small blue patch among the buildings. But from his perch he could see the whole of the sky, and it was bigger than he had ever seen. And he had seen the Empire State Building.

All around him was green. The green of the forest, the brighter green of grass, but there was grey on the mountains, and a shining silver river that was woven into the valleys like ribbons.

Harry just stared, struck slightly dumb by the _openness _of it all before retreating back beneath the tree line.

"Good morning."

He jumped, looking down. A strange creature was staring up at him, considering him…

"What are you doing up that tree?"

It took a while for him to find his voice.

"What are you?"

The _thing_ gave a soft chuckle.

"I am a centaur, young foal. I take it you have never seen my kind before?"

"I saw some horses once," shrugged Harry. "They smelled weird."

The centaur's face darkened a little.

"I am no horse," he said. "If it were not for your innocence many centaurs would have struck you down from that branch."

"Whatever," shrugged Harry. "I don't have time for this."

He peered over to the next tree, debating the best way to swing himself onto its branches.

"The distance is too great," said the centaur in a bored voice. "The trees are too far apart in this area of the forest."

"Fuck off."

"Tell me, child, what is your name?"

Harry hesitated.

"Doe. Harry Doe."

"Harry… Doe?"

"You've got ears, then."

"Indeed. And eyes. Should you not be in lessons?"

"Why? There's no point to them. Its not like I can read anyway. Reading's for wusses."

"Perhaps you should ask someone to teach you?"

"No way!"

"Ah, I see, you fear you will be looked down upon."

"What? No! Are you for real?"

The centaur frowned at him.

"What exactly is the meaning behind that question? I am here, so obviously I am real."

Harry just sniggered, then froze at the voice which echoed from below him.

"_There_ you are."

Snape was now standing next to the centaur, arms folded and eyes flashing.

"Come on now, Mr P- I mean, Harry. It is almost lunch time."

"_More _food?"

"If you don't come down now…"

"I'm coming!"

"Good."

Snape turned to the centaur.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on him…"

"Firenze."

"Yes, thank you."

XXX

"Sit down please Harry."

"Aren't we going to the canteen?"

"No," said Snape, shutting the door to his private sitting room behind them. "The _Great Hall _is far to crowded for this conversation."

There was already food on the table, and Harry began to help himself. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Can you read and write?"

He was surprised by Snape's bluntness. Most adults he had met had danced around the topic, trying to 'coax' it out of him. He respected Snape's nerve.

"No."

"Had you ever been in a classroom before today?"

"No."

Snape sighed. It was as he feared.

"Well it is obvious that lessons with the rest of your year are not going to be productive," he said. "We shall have to consider other options. Now, tell me, what are you good at?"

Harry sat up straighter.

"I'm totally awesome at picking pockets," he boasted.

"Yes," muttered Snape. He had already seen an example of _that_ talent. "Anything else?"

"I can fight well, I beat up a guy once, he must have been five times my size."

"Again I already know," Snape's heart was sinking by the second. "Anything that _doesn't _involve stealing or fighting?"

"Well," began Harry slowly. "I can speak Spanish."

Snape nodded encouragingly, but his mouth hung open as Harry continued.

"And French, German, Japanese, Russian, Chinese… a bit of Italian…"

"You can do all _that_," gasped Snape. "But you cannot read?"

"Never learnt," said Harry defensively. "Why should I? If you speak to the tourists in your own language, it's much easier to scam them."

Snape resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. This was going to be even harder than he anticipated.

XXX

"Piss off."

Draco sat anyway, looking at his year mate curiously.

"You don't have to swear at _everybody_, you know."

Harry shrugged.

"It's easier than trying to be nice. It's better to swear, get the first word in before the other person can turn nasty."

"Not everyone's out to get you."

"Most are."

Draco rolled his eyes. By now he knew that arguing was pointless.

"I only came to ask if you wanted to go flying."

"I… what? _Flying_?"

"Yes. The older boys have volunteered to take us out to the Quidditch pitch to borrow their brooms."

"Take us _where_?"

XXX

The broom hummed in his hand, and he threw it another distrustful look.

"Now," said the fifth year. "You hold it like this, and then just kick off, you see?"

Harry pushed gently on the ground, and the broom rose slowly. He nudged the stick upwards to go a little higher, and laughed as he began to pick up speed. He was _flying_, on a few twigs and a stick. For the first time, he actually began to _enjoy_ this magic lark.

In the shadows, Snape and Dumbledore watched as he began to zoom around the pitch, a natural talent that had not been seen since Charlie Weasley had left the school.

"He should be allowed to try out," said Snape. Dumbledore sighed.

"We cannot bend a rule for one Slytherin student…"

"He needs _something_ to motivate him," argued Snape. "The boy is illiterate, you cannot allow him to remain in classes with the others. He needs something to keep him in touch with the rest of the school."

"We shall see, Severus. We shall see."


End file.
